The Feeling of Fear
by TrustTheCloak
Summary: Set in the scene of the Burning Bridge when Gilan returns from Celtica, but from Halt's point of view. Rated T because I'm paranoid.


Halt was standing in the War Council pavilion, listening intently to the men speaking, occasionally offering his imput. Halt turned his head slightly to the door. His keen ears had picked up a set of hoofbeats. Not the steady, fresh hoofbeats of the horses the patrol rode, but an nonrhythmic, stumbling sound. Moving quickly, he walked to the entrance, unnoticed by men deep in conversation. His stomach dropped as he took in the familiar, lathered bay horse and the tall, slumped rider.

"Gilan! What's happened! Are you alright?" Halt asked quickly. _Please, please be alright. You have to be alright. _Halt thought fervently.

"Halt." The older Ranger heard his former student mumble. Gilan's dazed blue eyes closed, and he began to slide off the saddle. Halt was there to catch him. Gilan was dead weight in his arms._ Oh, Gil, don't pass out on me. Tell me you're ok before I really panic. _ Halt thought as he steadied his old apprentice. He glared at the two sentries, who were standing by, not sure whether to help or not.

"Give me a hand!" Halt ordered, and the sentries leaped forward, dropping their spears with a clatter to help support the semiconscious young Ranger. Gilan was exhausted, yes, but didn't appear to be injured. _Thank goodness. _Halt thought, relief replacing the awful, swooping feeling of fear he had first felt when he had recognized his apprentice- former apprentice, Halt corrected himself. Gilan, though he had grown into a capable young man, in Halt's eyes, had never completely grown up. To Halt, Gilan would always be the boy he cared for and protected. "Let's get you somewhere to rest." Halt said. "You're all in."

But Gilan summoned some last reserves of his energy, and, pushing clear of the soldiers, steadied himself on his own feet. Halt couldn't help but admire the young man's stamina. "Important news." Gilan said, directing his words to Halt. "Must see the Council. There's something bad going on in Celtica."

Halt once again felt the swooping feeling of fear. A cold hand of premonition clutching at his heart, he cast his gaze around, looking back down the path where Gilan had come. Bad news from Celtica. And Gilan apparently alone. "Where's Will? Is he alright?" Halt asked, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. _He had to be alright. If he's dead... _No. He wouldn't believe that.

"He's alright. I came on ahead." Gilan said. The senior Ranger's heart lifted just a little, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

As they had been talking, Halt had began to move toward the central pavilion, all the while keeping a firm grasp on his former apprentice's arm. _We don't need him falling. The kid's dead on his feet. _Halt reasoned. There were more guards on duty here, but they moved out of the way at the sight of Halt. He was a familiar figure around the War Council. Still guiding Gilan, they entered the cool shade of the Council pavilion.

A group of half a dozen men was clustered around a sand map- a large table with the main features of the Plains and Mountains modeled in sand. They turned at the sound of the new arrivals. It was no surprise to Halt that Sir David, Battlemaster of Caraway fief, had sprang from his chair and was moving swiftly toward them. "Gilan!" Sir David cried.

"Morning, Father." Gilan said, giving a tired smile. Gilan's voice was so utterly exhausted, Halt ached to hear it. Looking at Sir David, whose eyes were clearly asking a desperate question, Halt gave a quick nod of reassurance. The Battlemaster's tense body visibly relaxed.

"Greet your King properly." David said softly to his son. Gilan's tired gaze moved to the King. _There is no way he's going to pull that off without falling on his face. _Halt thought as the young Ranger attempted to sink to one knee. His grip tightened around Gilan's arm as the younger man stumbled.

"My lord..." Gilan began apologetically, but Duncan had already stepped forward, seizing his hand to steady him.

"Ranger Gilan, my lord, attached to Meric Fief. With messages from Celtica." Halt said, sparing Gilan from introducing himself. _It'll be a miracle if Gil's able to deliver his message without falling asleep. _Halt thought grimly, readjusting his grip as he felt his former apprentice jerk awake from an involuntary nod off.

"Celtica?" The King asked, interested. Halt saw him study Gilan carefully. "What's happening there?"

Baron Arald spoke, having moved from the table to stand nearer to Gilan. "Gilan was carrying your messages to King Swyddned, my lord." Arald said quickly, and Halt gave a look of approval. The less his exhausted former apprentice had to speak, the better. Arald continued, "Invoking our mutual defense treaty and requesting that Swyddned send troops to join us-"

"They won't be coming." Gilan interrupted. Halt noted the slight change in Gilan's posture. Gilan had lifted his head and drawn his shoulders back, looking slightly more alert. "Morgarath has them bottled up on the southwest peninsula."

Halt was a part of the stunned silence in the Council tent. His mind whirling, Halt heard Gilan's father ask, "Morgarath?" Normally, the shock in the normally stoic Battlemaster's voice would have been slightly amusing. Now, there was nothing amusing about it. "How? How could he get any sort of army into Celtica?"

Gilan shook his head, sucking his cheeks in to suppress a yawn. Gilan always stopped yawns that way, though Halt had told him many times it made him appear similar to a goldfish. "They sent small numbers down the cliffs, until they had enough troops to catch the Celt's by surprise. As you know, Swyddned keeps only a small standing army..."

Arald gave an angry outburst, only to be quieted by Duncan. "No time now for recriminations, Arald." He said softly. "What's done is done, I'm afraid."

"I should imagine Morgarath has been watching them for years, waiting for their greed to overcome their good sense." Baron Tyler said bitterly. The other men nodded quietly, including Halt. Halt had never had much use for the Celtic way of thinking. Morgarath's spy network was strong and developed. The Celts would have been easy prey. Halt shook his head again.

"So Celtica has been defeated by Morgarath? Is this what you're telling us?" The King asked. Gilan shook his head. _He needs to stop doing that. _Halt groaned inwardly as he once again tightened his grip as Gilan swayed . _I'm half tempted to stop supporting him and let him fall next time._

Gilan continued, "The Celts are holding out in the southwest, my lord. They're not defeated yet. But the strange business of it all is that Wargal raiding parties have been carrying off the Celt miners."

Halt's dark eyes shifted from Gilan to Crowley as the red haired man spoke. "What earthly use has Morgarath for miners?"

Gilan shrugged. "I've no idea, sir." He told his chief. "But I thought I'd better get here with the news of it as soon as possible."

"You saw this happening, then, Gilan?" Halt spoke for the first time since he had introduced the junior Ranger. He was frowning as he tried to make sense of what Gilan had just told them.

"Not exactly." Gilan admitted. Halt noted that Gilan's voice was growing wearier every time he spoke. They had best finish this meeting quickly, because very shortly, Gilan was going to be useless. "We saw the empty mining towns and the deserted border posts. We were heading deeper into Celtica when we met a young girl who told us about the raids."

"A young girl?" Duncan asked. "A Celt?"

Gilan shook his head again, much to Halt's aggravation (_Stop with the body language!)_. "No, my lord. She was Araluan. A lady's maid whose mistress was visiting Swyddned's court. Unfortunately, they ran into a Wargal war party. Evanlyn was the only one to escape."

"Evanlyn?" Duncan said, his voice the merest whisper. The others turned to him as he spoke and were startled. The King's face had turned a chalky white and his eyes were wide with horror.

"That was her name, my lord." Gilan replied. His blue eyes, glazed with exhaustion, now had confusion added to them. But Duncan wasn't listening. He had turned away and moved blindly to a canvas chair set by his small reading table. He dropped into the chair, his head sunk in his hands. The members of his War Council moved toward him, alarmed at his reaction. It was unnerving to see their King like this, Halt thought.

"My lord," said Sir David. "What is it?"

Duncan slowly raised his eyes to meet the Battlemaster's. "Evanlyn..." He said slowly, his voice breaking with emotion. "Evanlyn was my daughter's maid."

Halt felt a pang of sorrow for the King. His daughter was dead, due to Morgarath's Wargals. Halt could only compare it to what he might feel if he lost Will or Gilan. His apprentices, both former and current, could only be described as something like sons.

Gilan dropped his eyes from the tortured gaze of his King. Everyone in the tent could see the pain Duncan felt. Gilan cast his gaze around the others, seeking some form of support. None of them could meet Duncan's eyes.

Duncan rose from the chair and walked to doorway of the tent, looking to the southwest as if he could somehow see his daughter across the distance. "Cassandra left to visit Celtica eight weeks ago. She's a good friend of Princess Madelydd. When all this business with Morgarath started, I thought she'd be safe there. I saw no reason to bring her back." He turned away from the door and his gaze landed on Gilan. "Tell me. Tell me everything you know."

"My lord..." Gilan began, then stopped. Halt felt for the younger man, as he realized how difficult it must be to put the painful subject into words. "The girl saw us and came to us. She recognized Will and myself as Rangers. Apparently, she had managed to escape when the Wargals attacked their party. She said the others were..." He hesitated. He didn't know how to say the truth without being horribly blunt.

"Continue." Duncan said firmly.

Halt felt Gilan take a deep breath, then say quickly, in one breath, "She said the Wargals had killed them, my lord. All of them. She didn't tell us details. She wasn't up to it. She was exhausted- mentally and physically."

Duncan nodded. "Poor girl. It must have been a terrible thing to witness. She's a good servant- more of a friend to Cassandra, in fact."

Gilan took another breath, then continued, "At first we almost mistook her for a boy. "

"A boy?" Duncan said, confused. "With that mass of red hair?"

Gilan shrugged (Halt's grip tightened again) and replied, "She'd cut it short. Probably to conceal her appearance. The Celtic foothills are full of bandits and robbers at the moment, as well as Wargals." Halt felt a surge of fondness for his old apprentice. Even though Gilan could barely keep his eyes open, he was still doing his best to give detailed answers. Gilan shook his head hard, swaying hard to the right. Halt was instantly glad he hadn't released his former apprentice's arm.

Duncan stepped forward quickly, his voice apologetic. "Ranger Gilan." The King began, also steadying the young Ranger. "Forgive me. You're exhausted and I've kept you here because of my own personal sorrow. Please, Halt, see that Gilan has good and rest."

"Blaze..." Gilan mumbled. Halt felt another surge of affection. Gilan was more concerned for his horse than himself. "It's alright. I'll look after Blaze." He said gently, beginning to lead Gilan from the tent. Casting another glance at the King, Halt asked, "With your Majesty's permission?"

Duncan waved the two of them out. "Yes, please, Halt. Look after your comrade. He's served us well."

Exiting the tent, Halt looked at Gilan. Even in the dark, the weariness was clearly visible on his face. Entering the small tent Halt had been assigned, Halt gently led Gilan to a cot. Gilan fell asleep almost instantly. Settling himself down in a chair, Halt retrieved his bow, along with a small container of wood balm. He wasn't going anywhere. Looking at his motionless companion, Halt said, ever so softly, "I'm proud of you, Gil."

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! This scene had been nagging at my mind for a while. Every time I read it, I couldn't help but wonder what Halt might be thinking. If you are thinking that Halt might be wearing his emotions on his sleeve, please remember that the italics are his THOUGHTS. Though we all know that Halt is a grim character, I feel like he would've been slightly panicked to see an exhausted, possibly injured Gilan appear out of the blue, even if he didn't say it out loud.<strong>

**This was a lot of fun to write, so I hope you have fun reading it!**


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